


Collide

by DarkAlpha67



Series: Body Language [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Confrontations, Derek Smokes, Derek is a dick, Dickish Derek, Hints of Danny Mahealani/Derek Hale, Hints of Stiles Stilinski/OC, Kissing, M/M, Mention of Isaac Lahey/Allison Argent - Freeform, Mention of Scott McCall/Malia Tate, Smoking, Stiles has Tattoo's, Strong Language, angsty, mention of Erica/Boyd, ookay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 02:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10584879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAlpha67/pseuds/DarkAlpha67
Summary: After Part 2 of Body Language, things aren't flowers and hearts for Stiles and Derek, but one thing is clear... Stiles is done with Derek's shit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so like I wrote this late night, in a sleepy hazy world. Excuse Derek and Stiles, they are a creation from my sleepy mind with music blaring in my ears to keep me awake.
> 
> Enjoy!! :D

The music is loud and it’s grating on his last nerve. Why did he let Erica talk into this? Hell why did he even agree to this in the first place?

It’s not like he knows anybody here and the moment Erica and the others stepped into Lydia’s house, they disappeared into the throngs of people. Isaac went looking for Allison, Erica dragged Boyd off to get a something to loosen him up and Malia joined them with a promise to bring Derek a drink.

That was almost an hour ago.

Derek sighs, looking around, trying to find a familiar face in the mass of body’s dancing on the makeshift dance floor. Lydia is walking around, offering drinks to those she knows and ignores those who hit on her. She greeted Derek with a kiss on the cheek when she saw him.

It’s weird. Having so many friends now. Erica and Lydia seems to have joined forces which in Derek’s honest opinion can only mean the end of the world. Malia and Scott are now more openly affectionate, or at least Scott is. Only PDA Malia indulges in is letting Scott put his arm around her.

“Derek!”

Well, it’s about fucking time.

Malia rushes over to him, two tiny shot glasses in her hands. She hands it to him, holding hers up.

“Bottom’s up!”

Then promptly drowns it. Her face crunches up in that adorable way and she shakes her head.

“Argh! What the F— what is that?”

She looks at Derek’s drink with disgust. Before she does what she always does when tasting something disgusting (drown it to get rid of it), Derek brings the shot glass up to his lips and gulps it.

The bitter, sweet taste is nice. It doesn’t sit well with his stomach but it’s better than the shit Erica always drinks. Malia stares at him with wide eyes, a small blossoming on her face.

“Malia,” He starts, taking as step closer to her. “How much of this crap did you have to drink?”

Her smile is too open, like that time she stole Peter’s whisky, snug into Derek’s room and drank with him. She fell asleep giggling and laughing about Space ships and Batman.

“Not a lot.” She rolls her eyes.

Derek cocks an eye brow.

“I promise. Now! Wait here and I am going to go get us some more!”

He barely opens his mouth before she zips away.

He shakes his head, knowing she won’t be back anytime soon. The music is irritating but Derek can tell half the people dancing are either heavily intoxicated or well on their way. He makes his way through the crowd, ignoring the Basketball team as they grind up against their girlfriends and boyfriends, some call out to him, some don’t even notice him.

He catches sight of Scott by the music center, a bottle of beer next to him.

If Scott is here then that would mean….

His heart speeds up but he forces himself not to look around, to look for him. After dinner with his parents and then dropping Stiles off to see the disapproving stare from the sheriff, Derek isn’t in the mood to deal with anything involving Stilinski.

What the hell was he thinking anyway? That they would have dinner? That they would finally open their mouths about what is really doing on and that everything would be all right? He and Stiles… while they may be similar in some ways, their differences outweigh it.

And Derek is not going to put him and Stiles through all that crap.

He finds the table holding all the alcohol and pours himself a drink. He mixes his own shot, drowning it thirstily. If there is any hope that he can get through tonight it is this. He loves the bitter-sweet tasting alcohol.

Derek finds himself dancing after four shots. He dances with Erica and Lydia and Malia. Heck he even dances with Danny but that is short-lived because the guy’s hands can wonder places.

And then… he sees him.

He's smirking, laughing with a girl Derek has never seen before. She’s leaning against the wall, her green eyes memorized by every Stiles is saying, at least that’s what she looks because why the fuck else would she stare at Stiles like he farts cotton candy?

Stiles steps closer, bring his hand up to rest beside her head on the wall and then with his free hand he reaches up, slowly running his pointer finger over the line of her jaw, following the line under her chin, lifting it up. She laughs, her face looks flushed and Derek can see her hand move to pull Stiles closer as she tilts her hips away from the wall and closer to his…

He feels sick but he can’t look away. His mind is buzzing and he knew he shouldn’t have taken those three extra shots from Erica.

Green eyes flash to the left and Derek freezes. The girl frowns over at him and tilts her head to the side. Before she can get a good view of his face, Derek turns around and shoves his way through the crowd. He bumps into a few people but they are too distracted to be even bothered by it.

Cold air hits his face. He looks around, trying to see if there is anyone outside, when he finds none, he lets out a sigh, his breathe coming out in a misty grey color. Walking down the steps, he rounds the house, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a cigarette.

He lights it, sucking in the fumes, feeling it fill his lungs. He leans up against the wall of the house, sighing as he blows out the smoke.

God, what the hell was he thinking coming here?

It was wishful thinking, assuming Stiles was at home.

Of course Stiles isn’t at home. All his friends are here. This is Lydia’s party. Why wouldn’t he be here?!

He feels like an idiot and what’s more pathetic he feels like he’s about to throw up as image after image comes flashing through his mind. Stiles and the girl. The girl and Stiles. Her smile. Her hand on Stiles.

All it runs through his head, taunting him as if to say: _There! You had your fucking chance and because you were too chicken shit to take it now Stiles is done with you! You happy?_

He’s almost through his cigarette when he hears the door to Lydia’s house open. He’s hiding around the side of her house, so if whoever just walked out wants to do-the-do, Derek won’t see it.

He blows out smoke and closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind. Trying to convince himself that this is what he wanted. He wants Stiles to be with some else. After all, nobody should be stringed along by a guy who doesn’t even know what he wants for himself.

“Wow. It’s like Déjà-vu.”

 _Please. No… Not him_.

Footsteps follow.

He can hear Stiles move closer and the closer he gets, the more Derek wishes he could just fuck off.

“Nice stunt back there. You would have made the Flash proud. Running off like that.” Derek opens his eyes and rolls them to side to look at him. Standing in a pair of ripped jeans, sneakers, black top and leather jacket with no piercing’s in sight, he looks nothing like the Stiles Derek sees at school. From this angle, Derek catches a small peak of ink around Stiles’ neck before it disappears behind the collar of his leather jacket.

“Leave me alone.” Derek says coldly.

Stiles freezes, his eyes narrowing.

“Wow. You are a dick.”

Derek says nothing. He just lifts the cigarette to his lips, and takes a drag. His cheeks hollows and he feels the poisonous fumes fill his lung and Derek holds it for a second before exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. He feels light-headed and he loves it!

“Got it. Leaving.” Stiles grumbles.

Derek lolls his head to the side, watching as Stiles turns around, giving Derek a view of those leather clad broad shoulders and that gorgeous ass. Derek can still remember how soft it felt in his hand. Hell he can still remember the spray Stiles wore that night, the way it drew him in and the way it intoxicated him.

Suddenly, Stiles stops.

Derek frowns.

“You know what,” Stiles spins around, and from the light from the front porch, Derek can see he is angry. “You are a fucking asshole.”

“You’ve told me that already.” Derek retorts with an eye roll, the alcohol in his system making his tongue loose.

“Yeah, and I will tell you again, and again until you get your head out of your fucking ass. Okay, because first of all, you do not get be a dick to me. I did jack-fucking-squad to you. You want to be miserable? Be my guest, I could care less. But don’t act like I’m the one who did something wrong.”

Stiles is already halfway toward him by the time he finishes and… yep, he is mad. Those honey eyes are darker than usual and narrowed. Derek glances down and yep, his lips are thinned out too.

“Okay.” Derek says.

“Okay? That’s it?” Stiles asks, his voice rising. It makes Derek’s head hurt.

He winces, shutting his eyes. He rolls his head back to its frontal position. He keep his eyes closed as he lifts up the cigarette, finishing it off with one final pull.

As he blows out the smoke and drops the bud, stomping out, he answers Stiles. “Don’t you have a girl waiting for you inside?”

“And if I do? What the hell does that have to do with you?”

“Well,” Derek drags out, turning a bit to lean to his body to the side on the wall, his shoulder digging into the hard wood. “Seeing as you are out here, wasting your time with me, I’d say it was _something_ to do with me. Right?”

Stiles runs his eyes over him, shaking his head.

“I don’t know why I’m wasting my time,” he says more to himself.

With alcohol clouding his judgement, Derek does something he has never done before… provoke Stiles.

“Yeah, why are you? I mean you say you’re done with me but everywhere I turn, there you are. Why is that? I mean I can’t enjoy my lunch in peace because you’re there. I can’t hang out with my own fucking cousin without you invading my thoughts. Heck I can’t even talk to my own friends anymore because again, you are there.”

“Screw you, Derek.” Stiles seethes. “You wanna be an ass then be one but don’t turn your jealousy onto me, okay?” He moves toward Derek. “I gave you an opening, I gave you a chance but you, like always, got scared. You’ve always been scared. And like always, you ran. You ran the night we kissed, you ran that day at school. Every time you get scared you run.”

Derek glares at him.

“What?” Stiles mocks him. “I hit nerve?”

Stiles moves closer, getting right into Derek’s face. “Just admit it, Derek. Because if you don’t you’re never gonna be happy. But me, I am. Because I am not someone that’s gonna wait around for some guy who doesn’t know what the fuck he wants in life. Okay? I’m gonna find someone and I’m gonna be happy and you? You’re gonna be exactly where you are now, waiting and waiting for you balls to fucking drop!”

Angry and denial pulses through him and Derek reacts. He surges forward, his hands flashing up, grabbing into Stiles’ face, drawing him close and smashing their lips together in a hard and rushed kiss. Teeth clank together but Derek could care less. He tightens his hold on Stiles’ face, biting onto that lower lip that he has been fantasizing about since that night…

He moves forward, pressing his chest to Stiles, using his body to turn them both around and then presses on, backing Stiles up against the wall of the house, all the while kissing him with so much passion that his head starts to spin. Hands grip his hair, long fingers curls into his strands and fists them. Stiles tilts his head to the side, his tongue licking Derek’s bottom lip, and Derek opens his mouth, inviting him in. Their tongues tangle and a shiver runs through Derek. He feels Stiles move, feels the hand that had held his waist move up but Derek grabs it. He bits down on the soft pillow, nipping at the bottom lip.

He needs this. He _missed_ this.

His fingers curl around Stiles’ wrist and he moves it up, pressing it against the wall beside Stiles’ head. His hand moves closer up, holding onto Stiles until his fingers slide up his palm, prying his fist open and slipping his digits through the grabs between Stiles’ hand, he laces their fingers together.

Stiles groans, the vibration reverberating from his chest through Derek and the raven haired man presses into him, tilting his hips, until their ever present bulges rub together, the friction sending shivers through them, inducing a pleasurable moan.

Derek moves his head to the side, running his tongue over the roof of Stiles’ mouth before closing his lips around his, kissing him harder and faster, wanting Stiles to know how frustrated he is and how he knows what he wants damn it! He wants Stiles.

Stiles lets go of his hair and Derek almost pulls away but Stiles cups his face, holding him close while the other hand squeezing Derek’s. And Derek thrusts his hips up.

They stay there, leaning up against Lydia’s wall, kissing and grinding against one another, losing themselves in the kiss, in the feeling of each other. They pull apart, sucking in any needed oxygen before they lock lips again, their groans and moans mixing together.

Derek can taste the beer on Stiles’ tongue as he is sure Stiles can taste the various shots he took on his.

Soon, after hours, or so it seems, Stiles grips onto Derek’s jaw and holds him still as he draws back, pressing himself further into wall, creating a much needed distance between them. Derek doesn’t move, choosing to stay exactly where he is, with his eyes closed and Stiles a mere inch away from him.

The sigh Stiles lets out, chills him to the bone. The warm and content feeling he feels evaporates and he tries to will the feeling back, but it doesn’t return.

Stiles’ hand in his loosens and his fingers spread out until it is only Derek that is holding on.

 _No… no, please_.

“You need to make up your goddamn mind, Derek. ‘Cause I’m done waiting.”

Then he’s gone.

And the space between Derek and wall sends a cold shiver down his spine. He clenches his fist against the wall, and ducks his head, listening as Stiles walks away. When the footsteps fades, only then does he open his eyes.

He stares at the wall. The cold, dull, white wall.

_Make up your goddamn mind, Derek…_

“I’m trying.” Derek whispers mournfully in the dead of night.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any spelling mistakes.


End file.
